The Marriage of Rob Granger
by friend2friend1
Summary: I've always loved this author, Mary Stewart, of famed Merlin trilogy renown. The book Touch Not the Cat is a journey into faded English manors, mystery and murder, what more could you ask for? I've taken a different POV than the book's main character. Hope you like it!
1. Chapter 1

Preface to my story, which is my take on Mary Stewart's 'Touch Not the Cat', a much-loved favourite. The book is almost entirely from one character's POV and I would dearly love to write it from a couple of the other character's.

Excerpt is from Wikipedia, "The heroine, Bryony, has the gift of telepathy, and is able to communicate subliminally with a man she regards as her lover, but whose identity she is unsure of. She knows that he is a blood relative, and assumes him to be one of her three male cousins, twins Emory and James, and the younger Francis. As the story begins, Bryony is being summoned back to her beloved England from abroad. As the story unfolds, she is always seeking to learn the identity of her telepathic contact." end of Wikipedia article

**List of Characters of Importance**

William Ashley- newly deceased victim of a car accident as the story begins, trust-holder of Ashley Grange, a moated English estate that has been in the family for generations.

Bryony Ashley- only child of William Ashley, who has recently living abroad in Madeira. (has a telepathic friend)

Emory, James and Francis Ashley- Bryony's first cousins, whose parents live abroad.

The Vicar - Mr. Bryanston

Mr. and Mrs. Henderson - caretakers of the estate, Mrs. Henderson is housekeeper to the Vicar, etc..

Rob Granger- homeboy, gardener, jack of all trades. He has a secret no-one knows.

*Minor Characters

the Underhills - Americans who have a lease agreement for part of the manor

Lesley Oker- a book seller

lawyer to the estate- Mr. Emerson

Jon Ashley's doctor- Dr. Walther Gotthardt

* * *

'And some win peace who spend

The skill of words to sweeten despair

Of finding consolation where

Life has but one dark end.

-from "The Riddlers" by Walter de la Mare

***hopefully the prologue will cover the necessary beginnings without being too confusing..

* * *

Prologue

The arduous climb back to the man's lodgings at the local sanatorium at Bad Tolz were taking their toll on him. The months of bronchial therapy and rest had brought him almost back to himself, so much so that he believed he was almost ready to return to England and his beloved Ashley Grange.

Thankfully, Ashley had no steep mountain grades or improbable ascents, being rather more the gentle Anglo geography in all its pastoral glory. He missed it dreadfully, as much as he missed the daughter who had been working in a hotel on the island of Madeira.

Where was that bus? He had left Bad Tolz behind far longer than it should've taken the lumbering vehicle to catch up with him.

And then, the faintest sound of a large engine reached him, gearing its way down as it hurriedly approached the hairpin curve below him. Tiredly, he stepped a little farther onto the pavement, as he waited for the bus to come up from behind.

It was a terrifyingly efficient blow from the large car's fender that tossed the man effortlessly aside, his body limply crashing through the brush, coming to rest in a crumpled heap against a stone.

Through a reddening fog of pain, he reached out in an agonizing cry...one that was heard half a continent away.

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Chapter 1

The period of endless waiting for his 'lover' to re-enter his life were taking their toll on Rob. It had been eight months of longing since he had been in her presence, and to his sorrow, even that had been the usual final exchange of instructions and assurances between the garden-boy and his 'betters' so to speak. He had driven them to the train, Bryony and her father, Mr. Ashley, on their way to Madeira and Switzerland respectively. He pondered his situation as he returned to his quiet abode. There was no other way in his mind to view his IRL relationship to Bryony. Garden-boy at best, which was why at present his identity was a mystery to Bryony and likely to remain so if he had anything to say about it.

It was certain to him by now that Bryony herself, while being at a loss as to his identity,was eager, even desperate to learn it. The affectionate but vague titles of 'boy' and 'you', long held ones from childhood, came through in most of telepathic dialogues, but at odd unguarded moments, the sensation of being pressed for an unwary acknowledgement to a given name came through, being strenuously resisted on his part. His best aids in keeping her at bay in this matter were the fact that she had three familiar Ashley cousins to be curious about as well, and his own completely hidden knowledge of Ashley ancestry.

No one had guessed it, the secret sharing of thought patterns that existed between he and Bryony Ashley, although Mr. Ashley, the titled heir to the entire estate, was a curious sort, given to odd looks and slightly weighted statements. Perhaps it was only the radar a father had in regards to a younger man's attention to his beloved daughter, but Rob was sometimes sure it was more than that. Whether or not, it was by and large unspoken subject between them, which suited Rob entirely. Even so, his respect for his employer had caused him to strive to be vigelant to be sober and chaste in his connections with Bryony.

As he finished the light supper left to him by Mrs. Henderson, the estate's housekeeper, retiring afterward to his solitary bed, he was careful to keep his thoughts from drifting towards her. The darkened telepathic doorway between them was comforting in that it existed, much as a telephone line linked him to the local grocer or doctor. Perilous or not, the link was as much a part of him as breathing.

Sometime during the night, he sat up in bed, aware of a sickening feeling, jarring, harsh, and acidic. Another darkened entrance had burst open in a torrent of hot molten feeling, and as it swirled through him, he insensately let the long familiar door swing open. Immediately the torrent surged toward it, seeking an outlet.

He spoke her name repeatedly, striving to stem the torrent, instantly protective of her mental processes.

"Bryony?" As her mind opened to his, he could feel the latent warmth of the island night, and the sensation of gently moving shadows superimposed themselves on his conscious thoughts. Perhaps flowers, but if so, they were of some pale, globular species not native to England.

He could sense her struggle to clear the fog of sleep from her brain, as the urgent pleadings of a dying man echoed through both of their consciousnesses.

"Bryony.. Are you listening?" he spoke earnestly into the distance between them.

The answer came back, the intensity of concentration reassuring him that she was getting the gist of what was being transmitted to them.

"I've got it, I think. It's Daddy, isn't it?... a pause... "He's taken ill?"

"Yes," he agreed hastily, "I don't know more, but you better go to him."

He heard nothing more as she broke off the connection, but her purposefulness came through. Bryony Ashley would soon be in Bad Tolz, and if God willed, perhaps eventually on Ashley Grange's hallowed ground itself.

* * *

well, tell me if you like it... I know I should be posting on my Sherlock story but I'm doing some research making sure the story will work... sigh... don't hate me.. if you haven't read Touch not the Cat you ought to..


	2. Chapter 2

Sadly, I am NOT Mary Stewart, the creator of these lovely characters and plots...

Even so, I have managed to garner a few views and even a LOVELY comment from Question42, THANKS!

without further ado

* * *

Chapter two

Arising before the sun rose on a new day, his mind went over the incident that had awakened him during the night. In the light of day, he recalled the entreaty that had been implicit in her farewell, echoing painfully.

She had hastily inquired if there was any chance of encountering him at Ashley. As always, the thought of a denouement and a face to face encounter fueled his sense of inadequacy, as his conscience seemed to reprove him at his forwardness in continuing to encourage intimacy between he and the estate heir.

It was these feelings that fostered his repulsing of her request, resulting in the inevitable soundless wistfulness emanating from his lover's heart. Not wishing to leave her forlorn, for a brief unguarded moment he allowed her to feel the depth of his constancy and love.

There was more than enough to do around Ashley Court, and the potential of family descending added to the list of tasks, For starters, he intended to spend time later on the continuing maintenance of the cottage the Ashleys had shared after leasing the big house to the Underhills.

Doing the upkeep had been a way of reassuring himself that Bryony and her father would return to England, and of assuaging the errant loneliness that dogged his footsteps. It seemed an evermore important task than ever now that Bryony's homecoming was near at hand. A knowledge had come to him during the night of Mr. Ashley's death, saddening them both deeply.

Mrs. Henderson soon made her usual entrance into his home, with the news of Mr. Ashley's demise on her lips. Mrs. Henderson was probably the most voluble woman of his acquaintance, and years of experience had taught him how to deftly extract the information he sought, before calmly leaving her to set his home to rights as she had always done for both his family, the Vicar and even Ashley itself when necessary.

The Vicar had apparently received word from Bad Tolz, which he had passed on to those affected. The Vicar had received a full report from Dr. Gothard, who had also informed him of Miss Bryony's arrival there, and that arrangements were being made for a small service and cremation there. It was expected that she would arrive from the Continent by train and ferry sometime afterwards.

Not much was known of the circumstances surrounding Mr. Ashley's death, only that he had been apparently the victim of a hit-and-run accident, being found too late for medical assistance. It was a tragic loss that was being felt deeply amongst all those of Ashley who knew Jon Ashley to be a kind and compassionate individual.

Leaving Mrs. Henderson to her daily chores, he whistled for Shep as he stepped outdoors, heading for the dilapidated greenhouses outside the walled kitchen garden. Besides the fact that the Vicar himself might join him as he usually did when possible, as part of their shared quest to make the greenhouses a profitable paying venture, there was also the opportunity to hear firsthand what the Vicar had heard.

He found the Vicar as he had expected busy with the new tomato plants which had been started earlier in the month, and were now large enough to be tied to their canes. The

Vicar obviously believed work to be of a deeply restorative nature.

"Good morning, Vicar." he greeted the older man.

"Good morning, Rob. How are you?" Mr. Bryanston looked concernedly at him from kindly grey eyes behind wire-rimmed spectacles.

"I reckon we've all had better 'uns, hey? Mrs. Henderson told me about Mr. Ashley."

The Vicar sighed, his round serious face showing his distress, "The place will never be the same without him, it is not going to be easy for anyone to adjust to that. It will also take time to accept that he's gone."

Rob cleared his throat, which had choked up a little, thinking of the painful moments of the night, "For Miss Bryony especially, it seems to me. Have you heard from her?"

The Vicar looked at him astutely, before dropping his eyes to the fragile stems of the plants before him on the bench, "Not from Miss Bryony as of yet, but I did speak at length with Dr. Gothard, and I intend to call Mr. Emerson this afternoon to see of what assistance I can be to him."

They worked companionably until the sun had risen to its zenith in the sky, their languid conversation focusing mainly on the substantive details of the coming change of guard as it were, as the Vicar so aptly turned the phrase. They amicably decided to meet later in the orchard to continuing spraying it's apple trees. Both were hot, tiring jobs but at least in the orchard there was the potential for the rising of a breeze to stir the turbid air.

As he took the familiar shortcut back to his home, cutting through said orchard, he was surprised to see an individual leaving the churchyard, exiting unto the main road, headed for a car which was parked under some branches.

It was the sense of furtiveness in the person's movements, as if to avoid attention, that stopped Rob in his tracks and caused him to duck behind a nearby apple tree, calling Shep to him. From this distance a description was nigh impossible, but if he had to, he would say he had seen a tall, blond-haired man.

That was all, except for the fact he seemed to be carrying a small package that he quickly stored in the boot before climbing into the driver's seat and sending the powerful car on its way. Rob stood watching guardedly from his hiding place, and once it was certain the car was gone, in the direction of nearby Worcester, he strode swiftly through the churchyard and into the church.

The church atmosphere was cool and serene, the candles flickered, and for whatever reason the intruder had entered, they had seemingly not harmed the church or Ashley at large. It was an incident to store away, but it begged the question of whether the time-honoured tradition of leaving the church unlocked for the weary passerby might need to be rethought out.

Continuing on for home, Shep meandering aimlessly along behind him, he found a lunch laid out for him by Mrs. Henderson, after which he headed for the orchard.

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The tasks of the day behind him, Rob had one more duty that he performed regular as clock work, in the same fashion each night, as much a part of his routine as the task of winding his watch while he sat on the edge of his bed preparing for sleep.

After a quiet evening alone with Shep, before turning in, he shrugged his way back into his jacket, and grabbed the keys that he kept in the drawer by the sink.

Leaving his farm lights on, he headed back across to the Court, casually intent on his task of night watchman. There was nothing untoward in the orchard, churchyard, or along the banks that lay between Ashley manor and the moat itself.

Following the driveway the crossed the moat, he carefully circled the House itself, checking that every door was locked. He quietly unlocked a side door leading into the library where the most valuable items in the house were kept now in locked exhibit cases, but even as he pushed the door open he could tell not even a mouse desecrated the silence of the room.

Still, as was his wont, he turned on his torch, flickering it over the cases as he slipped silently through the darkened room. Testing the doors to the hallway completed his official business for the night, and he retraced his steps into the chilly evening, returning thankfully to his cottage, leaving the Underhills to sleep in safety within.


	3. Chapter 3

Sadly, I am NOT Mary Stewart, the creator of these lovely characters and plots...

Even so, I have managed to garner a few views and even a LOVELY comment from Question42, THANKS!

without further ado

* * *

Chapter 3

For the past few days, Rob had waited anxiously for Bryony's arrival. He had spent more than an inordinate amount of time at her cottage, as had Mrs. Henderson.

Together they had decided that nothing was too good for Miss Bryony and that when she arrived, every convenience they could offer would be at her disposal.

Mr. Bryanston had mentioned while doing their daily work in the orchards and greenhouses, about his conversation with the estate lawyer in Worcester. Mr. Emerson had told him Miss Bryony would be in his offices on Saturday, bringing Mr. Jon's ashes back to Ashley possibly Sunday morning.

Upon waking on Sunday morning, he had gleaned from Bryony her desire to use the Lambretta to get around for the time being, the estate cars being used by the Underhills. With the help of Mr. Henderson, he had pulled it from the farm shed in which it had been stored away.

After applying some elbow grease, and a petrol can of gas, the Lambretta fired up easily. Storing it in the scullery , and then on an afterthought making sure there was enough of tonight's supper for two if the moment arose, it appeared there was nothing left to do but wait for Bryony to step off the bus she would take from Worcester.

The last thing he wanted to do was sit about and fret, and he had noticed that week that the Fishing Cat statue was missing from its spot along the Lake.

He would take a look at it, stopping off to close up the greenhouses to protect the young plants. Picking up a spanner as he left the house,he decided to take the shortcut through the Orchard and the churchyard, leaving Shep sleeping on the hearth.

It was as he reached the path of yews leading to the Court, he became aware that something or someone was coming toward him, heading for the church. Startled, he shrunk into the sheltering brush, the yews giving off a stronger scent at his disturbance.

After a space of a few minutes, he became aware once more of a furtive blond-haired figure. Within moments, the individual was at the vestry door, soon disappearing inside the church.

Just as he was about to cross the churchyard and enter the church, Bryony herself walked past,carrying her father's ashes. She made no noise as she progressed through the woods, and it was only by the sheerest chance he had not walked out in front of her. Of any times to encounter her, he did not want to do so at a time that was so private to her.

He kept his distance and meant to do nothing more than to ensure her safety before heading back to await her presence at the farm. Once she was inside the church, he stood watchful.

The man hurriedly exited the church from the vestry door, seeming to want to avoid an encounter with Bryony. Rob watched from a distance as the man appeared to be carrying a package, this time though, it appeared to be a large flat rectangle. It was not the first time a suspicious visitor had been noticed, and Rob kept a sharp eye on him.

Oddly, he was wearing a church robe. Odder still, he slipped the robe off and hung it on the gate before turning to head for the road. Without warning, the church lit up from within, every light inthe place flickering on in unison.

It caught the intruder full on in its glow, and a puzzled Rob recognized one of Bryony's cousins, possibly Emory or James he would think, although which it was was hard to say from here. Whoever it was, he stepped immediately into the shadows. Rob watched him cautiously. The man did nothing but seem to adopt an attitude of indecision.

The Vicar's arrival seemed to bring about a decision, and with relief, Rob watched the man beat a hasty retreat to the road and a waiting car.

More minutes passed although Rob had relaxed his protective demeanour. Realizing from Bryony she was coming out of the church, he retraced his path through the peach orchard, backing as he went and keeping an open mind for any communication from her. He leaned back against the tree, waiting for any new developments.

Perhaps he had dozed, for suddenly he became aware that the lights were now off and footsteps were fast approaching him in the darkness.

Like a bolt from the blue, Bryony herself was nearing the yew trees he stood behind, and in instant self preservation he fled soundlessly into the orchard. Heartsickenly his shirt sleeve had caught on a wire he was crossing over, and the struggle to release it created a low subtle hum that he was sure Bryony could hear. With renewed urgency, he ran toward the safety of the gate that would allow him to circle round through the glass houses and the old rose garden to the safety of his cottage.

Slightly out of breath, he paused in the gateway, looking back furtively. Without warning, a beacon of love, trust, longing and reassurance hit him, and he became aware that Bryony had spotted his silhouette from across the orchard. She stopped at the wire, choosing to make the next move up to him.

The sheer amazement he felt realizing that she was physically here after so long overwhelmed him. It would be so easy to let her approach and discover his identity, but reality kicked in and with regret he denied her entreaty. Bolting away, he left her to retrace her steps, following the path from the church into the farmyard.

With a nice bit of luck, she had not yet come round to his doorstep when he entered his home. Thankfully, he had left his lights on, and everything ready for supper. As he peered through his windows, his heart sped up as Bryony's shadowy figure strode toward him in the twilight gloom.

Stepping to the doorway, he called out to her, receiving a friendly unsuspecting greeting from her. She seemed to droop with disappointment and confusion as she walked up to him. As they began to converse, he broached the subject that was uppermost on her mind.

It had definitely been one of her Ashley cousins, most likely one of the twins, that had left the church furtively, and for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, it appeared to matter a great deal to Bryony which one it was. Beyond that was the regret of their almost meeting. Without a doubt, he could see she was weary from the events of the tragic week she had just been through.

With all the heartiness he could muster, he welcomed her into his home, and the joy of her presence resonated in all that he did and said. He did his best to stay out of her mental processings, although it was nigh impossible to be completely deaf to the signals she so easily sent out when she was upset and weary.

There were flashes of words and phrases that held a mystery, and suddenly Bryony blurted out one to him, querying him whether he had ever heard the phrase 'William's brook' in reference to Ashley. Nothing registered in his memory, and their talk turned to the disposing of her dad's ashes.

Sensing her need of moral support, he offered her breakfast in the morning after she had scattered William Ashley's remains. Her departure was matter of fact and brief, and responding in kind, he held the solace of her return in the morning to Ashley proper.


	4. Chapter 4

much appreciation to any readers... this is a story I deeply treasure written by Mary Stewart, ergo she owns all characters..

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Chapter 4

A sense of loss and sorrow awakened him, and he wondered if he had shared Bryony's unsettled dream state and the melancholy that accompanied the act of scattering her da's ashes in the Ashley graveyard enclosure. He blundered in foolishly into her private sorrows, seeking to wish her pain away with the excitement of her return to Ashley. The past was always near to hand when death was present though, and he withdrew from her giving her a proper time to mourn while he in turn he lingered over memories that he had long forgotten. The word 'Da' to him brought no comfort but rather a cloud of uneasiness and anger, and the helplessness that accompanied the memories of his mother's sorrow and fear.

His mam, Bess Granger had been a kind, but worried mother who gave him the only sense of home life he had ever known. In spite of her husband's drunken rages and the money that he failed to provide her, she had contrived to make life as happy and comfortable as possible for him. No one else had been privy to the turmoil that had sometimes taken over long chaotic stretches of their lives, although Bryony had somehow known that the arrival of his da was the signal for her to return home. If his da had touched Bryony, he wasn't sure what the outcome would've been.

The death of his da had not brought much of a sense of loss, only a sense of reprieve from the constant abuses. Within months though, it was obvious his mother's health was deteriorating. Even with medical treatment, there was no stopping the ravages of the cancer that had gone untreated for too long, and with regret he soon buried Bess Granger beside her husband in the churchyard of One Ash.

There were other memories from his childhood that came abruptly to the forefront of his unguarded waking moments now. Amongst them were the scandalous whispers of long ago ancestors, and the shameful tales that linked the maze at Ashley Hall to his own forebears. All in all if it wasn't for Bryony and their connection, it was a sure bet he would have long forsook Ashley and all its dark secrets, and painful memories.

Bryony's arrival at his door brought a welcome banishment of the past's ghosts, and he gladly buried the lot for the time being. There was much to be faced now that she had come home, but he would happily dwell in the sunshine of the present while it was there. He had breakfast ready, and it was satisfying to once again be seated across the table from her.

Her thoughts were primarily on her loss, and the change it would bring to Ashley. There was much to think and assess, and he tried to slow her down from taking it all on at such an early stage. He had fragments of things coming from her, things that she was burying deep that had to do with her rushed visit to Bad Tolz. The biggest concern was what would become of Ashley itself with the most recent owner gone, and those in line to inherit having no fortune to carry on managing the cumbersome property.

The future was obviously obscure at best, and for reasons best known to herself Bryony for today elected to go over Ashley with the ubiquitous tour group known to all British estates. Mrs. Henderson arrived once the decision had been made. He left her in the voluble woman's care, and he knew he would be able to watch over her as she took over the cottage and entered Ashley Grange for the first time in almost two years. It was good to know she was home.

He went back to working with the Vicar in the Orchard, knowing comfortably that Bryony was in the vicinity, and he could glimpse from time to time. She was quite open to him today also, and it appeared Mrs. Henderson was being her usual informative self. Some of it seemed to give her unease, and he reached out again, seeking to soothe her anxiety about the future especially in regards to himself.

The troubled thoughts now poured in swiftly, as something appeared to agitate Bryony. Something to do with the valuable possessions of Ashley proper, until a climax of indignation and disbelief overtook her and she reached out blindly, trusting him to be there.

"What's wrong?' he queried, feeling the troubled aspect, and catching a phrase that confused him instantaneously, "The horse is gone from the library..." and the flood of remembered interaction and conversation between the present occupants of Ashley and his Bryony poured in. The worry of the missing art pieces knotted his stomach in sympathy to her new troubles.

His puzzlement rang out with the thoughts he voiced,"I thought you said the horse was gone from ... the library?!'

A vivid picture entered his mind, a confirmation of the sanity of her phrasing, and he saw at once a small biscuit T'ang horse on its shelf.

Now he recalled the piece, and saw as well the missing pictures that seemed to draw more distress from her than before. She had indicated the problem to the Americans and that in itself could lead to the solving of their disappearances.

The mutual need for assurance, and of physical contact, all at once was an undeniable wave that engulfed them both. Bryony's insistent emotional appeal to him drew out his protective nature, creating an intimacy that aroused his deepest longing. It quickly became an unbearable pressure and he abruptly shut her out.

From a hazy distance he became aware of another man seemingly seeking a claim on her. There was no doubt that her cousins were men of wealth and position, able to provide Bryony with a life she deserved.

With self-recrimination and frustration, he fought down the desire to openly show himself to her, knowing whatever happened, he would be there for Bryony, hovering, wanting the best for her even if it wasn't himself. As best he could, he weathered the advances made upon her by the Twins. Only, God help them if they hurt her.

The biggest shock was the doubt and accusation that soon followed. He had known from the moments with her father's doctor, through to the interview with the lawyer, Bryony had been seeking answers to explain her father's cryptic last phrases. The worry and fear of his last moments shot through his memory, and he understood at last Bryony's horror and dismay.

There was much at stake, and he caught the echo of Jon Ashley's words.. 'my little Bryony, be careful' Was the man dead due to a foreign driver's careless disregard, or was it an intentional desperate attack? Was Bryony herself in danger.. and from whom?

His claim to Ashley was well hidden, even from his beloved Bryony, and only he knew where his share of the Ashley gift of telepathy came from.

As a child, in his solitude and his fear of his father, the sensation of a near friend was a balm and he guarded jealously the feelings of affection he received from his unknown ally.

As he grew, he became aware of the legendary gift of foresight the Ashleys were infamous for. The desire to discover who he was bonded with was strong, and from shared memories it soon became apparent it was the only female Ashley, Bryony who had received the same gift as himself.

Wicked Nick was a known quantity to all who grew up in the confines of One Ash, yet somehow, some mysterious connection seemed to exist between himself and the infamous reprobate.

Time and again, he found his way to the Maze, seeking its secrets and in a sudden illumination he came to understand he was as Ashley as Bryony herself, and her three blond self-assured relatives.

And it appeared now that one or all of them were desperate men who could not be trusted, and yet Bryony herself had nothing to place either trust or distrust in any of them including himself.

He needed a plan, and soon.


End file.
